


holding out for a hero

by dicaeopolis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Captains, Gen, I'd call it more of an homage than a crossover, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, and other classic tropes, bokuto wears a scanty impractical costume "for mobility", just a lot of everyone being into everyone, the ships aren't a huge focus you can read it qpp, vaguely a teen titans AU, villain becomes awkward friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto, and Daichi make up a team of superheroes fighting to keep their city free from crime. But they might’ve met their match in a powerful nature spirit that seems determined to take them down for good.</p><p>Also, it would really help Kuroo’s concentration if his teammates stopped wearing so much spandex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding out for a hero

**Author's Note:**

> ["C MINOR, PUT IT IN C MINOR"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLHCS6oL7lo)
> 
> this is also lowkey due to [this post](http://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com/post/134943483147)... ha ha.... haaaaaaa
> 
> thanks to the whole twitter squad for alternately enabling and screeching in protest about titty window armor bokuto, and thanks to [betsy](http://www.twitter.com/owlinaminor) in particular because she betaed and also because i love her
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](http://vivasimplemindedness.tumblr.com/post/149125291748/holding-out-for-a-hero) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis/status/766250513834864640)

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to think of himself as flexible when it came to weather, but he definitely had a type, and this Saturday afternoon was it. Rain was drumming on the top of the roof and sheeting down outside the windows. Comforting grey had settled over the city, and the air was cool against his cheeks - or, it would’ve been if he’d been outside, not curled up warm and snug underneath a heavy wool blanket in the Tower’s living room.

Yeah, Kuroo definitely had a type.

Speaking of.

“Kuroooooooo,” Bokuto whined from the other end of the sofa, “get me an apple.”

Kuroo frowned at him. “Get it yourself, you lazy fuck.”

Bokuto pouted mightily.

“No. You know that doesn’t work on me.” A lie. But he could control himself.

Bokuto dropped the bronze breastplate and rag in his hands onto the carpet next to the couch. He kicked the blanket off the two of them, ignoring Kuroo’s indignant protests to scoot up next to him, cuddle up against Kuroo’s side, and plop his head down on his shoulder. _“Kuroo.”_

“You’re cute. No.”

“You’ll face the wrath of a _god_.” Bokuto’s voice was lazy, and Kuroo felt entirely unthreatened.

“You’re only _half_ god.”

“That’s half more than you!”

Kuroo smirked down at him. “My divine looks make up for it.”

“I could knight you _right now_ if you got me an apple,” Bokuto offered. He squirmed around a bit to settle down between Kuroo’s legs with his back against Kuroo’s chest, and tilted his head backwards to stare up at him. “Or invite you to the banquet of the almighty. Or something.”

“Or you could use some of that divine power to haul your ass ten feet to the kitchen and get yourself an apple.” At least Kuroo wasn’t cold from the loss of the blanket. Even on rainy Saturdays, something about Bokuto always felt a little bit warmer and brighter.

“Come _on,”_ Bokuto whined upside-down. “I’m _polishing_ my _armor_ . _You_ aren’t even doing anything _important-”_

Kuroo flicked him on the nose, and Bokuto spluttered indignantly. “I’m doing _homework.”_

“Like I said! Nothing important!”

“You know, some of us _don’t_ have a divine inheritance waiting for us-”

“Kuroo-chan, you’re kind of a loser,” said a new voice. Oikawa Tooru draped himself over the back of the battered couch, shoving one foot quite intentionally into Kuroo’s face. Kuroo made a noise of disgust and pushed it away. “It’s a _Saturday._ Bokuto is right.”

“I’m right,” Bokuto repeated, sounding entirely too self-satisfied.

Kuroo turned his frown on Oikawa. “What else am I supposed to be doing? It’s _raining.”_

Oikawa looked a little surprised. “It is?” He twisted around on the back of the couch, then made an undignified noise as he lost his balance and tumbled down on top of the pair of them.

“Klutz,” Kuroo muttered. Oikawa made the best of the situation, tangling his legs with Bokuto’s and tipping his head back onto the armrest at the other end of the sofa.

“Oh, it _is_ raining.” From his new vantage point, Oikawa could see through the window to the rainy day outside.

“It’s been raining for _hours_ ,” Bokuto pointed out. “How did you not notice earlier?”

“He’s been in his cave all day,” Kuroo answered for Oikawa.

Oikawa carefully maneuvered his leg around to kick Kuroo in the shin. “It’s not a _cave,_ it’s an _office!_ I’m not _Batman,_ you know.”

“You’re about as reclusive.”

“I _need_ that space, you geek. Do you _want_ to go into our next fight blind and deaf?”

“Guys,” interrupted another voice. Daichi came up to the back of the couch and looked down at the tangle of his team. “What are you doing?”

“Bothering me,” complained Kuroo at the same time that Oikawa answered, “cuddling” and Bokuto said, “polishing my armor!”.

Daichi frowned for a moment. “Okay… Well, make sure you’re staying alert. The alarm could ring at any-”

_BREEEEEEEEEEEE!_

Kuroo just about jumped out of his skin. Bokuto squawked and fell off the couch, ignoring Kuroo’s yelp at the elbow digging into his thigh and Oikawa’s loud complaint about the loss of warmth.

“-time,” Daichi finished, suddenly crisp. “Meet downstairs. We’ll suit up in the van.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room towards the communications room, which was the boring name for Oikawa’s Batcave.

Kuroo hopped up, face twisting at the pain in his thigh, and went to follow suit. “Get up, your holiness,” he threw over his shoulder at Bokuto, who was still on the floor as Kuroo left. “Time to defend humanity.”

“I’ll meet you down there!” Bokuto called after him. As Kuroo headed down the short hall towards the elevator, he heard Oikawa’s light, airy voice ask:

“Take me with you?”

“‘Course!”

Oikawa made a noise of delight, and then Kuroo heard Bokuto’s steps thump across the floor and the living room window slide up. Bokuto whooped as he hurled himself out into thin air, and Oikawa’s exhilarated laughter got rapidly quieter as the pair of them free-fell towards the ground.

Kuroo elected to take more mortal means down from their base, waiting by the elevator for Daichi until he emerged from the comms room. “What’s the sitch?”

“Uptown, according to the city police’s intel.” Daichi jerked his head back in the direction of the comms room as the elevator door closed and they started to make the descent down the top of the Tower. “Apparently some plant monster took over that square with the hat store on the corner.”

Kuroo cocked his head. “‘Took over’? Is it hostile? Or just sitting there?”

Daichi shrugged. “Apparently it _wasn’t_ hostile until they started trying to mess with it.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “So we’re cleaning up someone else’s mistake.”

“What else is new?” The elevator door to the Tower’s small parking lot hissed with steam as the pneumatic seal opened. “Alright, let’s go.”

Daichi swept out, followed closely by Kuroo loping behind him. Bokuto was sitting cross-legged where he had presumably landed on his butt on the pavement, with Oikawa still happily snuggled up in his arms. As the other half of their team approached the unassuming silver van parked in the small driveway, Bokuto hopped up and placed Oikawa down on his feet lightly. “Ready to go?”

“Let’s roll,” Daichi directed them. “You guys suit up while we’re moving.”

“I still think the van is dorky,” Kuroo complained as he hopped into the passenger seat. Daichi took the driver’s, and Bokuto and Oikawa piled into the back. The dorky van in question pulled out of the lot and onto the main road. “It’s just a _van._ It’s practical and functional and _boring._ Like, sure, it’s subtle, but we could’ve had a cool black somethingmobile, or a fleet of flaming motorcycles, or a _plane-”_

“Oh, stop whining,” Oikawa interrupted.  “We all know we’d wreck a plane within a month. Besides, you own a _moped._ Now shut up and come take your clothes off.”

Kuroo sighed, but gave up and scooted over the console into the back of the van. “If you insist, babe.”

Oikawa and Bokuto were already shedding their civvies, leaving a pile of Bokuto’s cargo shorts and Oikawa’s skinny jeans and Bokuto’s muscle tank and Oikawa’s Star Wars t-shirt on the dubiously grimy floor. The back of the van was lined on one side with shelves of miscellaneous weaponry, mobile communications equipment, and a half-finished twenty-four-pack of Powerade. The other side held four lockers. The first was decorated with a plain card that read SAWAMURA and a battered poster for some Clint Eastwood movie, the second was covered top to bottom with bumper stickers that said things like AREA 51 and I WANT TO BELIEVE and PROBE ME DADDY, the third had BOKUTO! scrawled in large letters with a sharpie and a host of indecipherable but dramatic-looking doodles, and the fourth was entirely empty except for a small, neat ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) printed at the bottom right corner.

Kuroo made his way over to the fourth locker, steadied himself against it, and looked mournfully at the dusty helmets hanging on the rack to the right of the lockers as he started to strip down. “I can’t convince us to wear the helmets with the HUD visors this time, can I?”

Oikawa sniffed as he pulled on his own drivesuit, black besides the electric teal lines running down his sides and arms. “It gives me helmet hair.”

“That’s the pettiest reason I’ve ever heard-”

“It offers little to no protection in an actual fight, weighs your head down, throws you off-balance, limits your field of vision, muffles your hearing, and has no communication capacity that we can’t get from the comm links in our ears,” Oikawa recited. “And it gives me helmet hair.”

“And I always forget mine,” Bokuto added, patting Kuroo on the back in consolation. “Sorry, bro.”

Kuroo sighed, unhooked his sleek black catsuit from where it hung in his locker, and began to squirm into it.

By his own locker, Bokuto was already in the lower half of his costume, which consisted of a pair of leather boots that reached high up his thighs and something that could only be described as an armored speedo. He unhooked his breastplate from the wall and began to pull it over his head. Bokuto was facing the wall, probably out of some woefully misplaced concept of modesty, but the attempt didn’t accomplish much beyond putting his powerful shoulders and half-covered bubble butt on display for the world to see. Oikawa pointedly averted his eyes. Kuroo made no such effort, instead grinning over at his best friend wriggling into his armor.

“Bokuto,” Oikawa said with difficulty after a moment, “do you really need to dress like this _every_ time?”

“Uh, hang on a sec,” said Bokuto’s muffled voice through the metal over his face. He pulled it down and settled it around his torso, then turned around. The bronze breastplate had a diamond-shaped cutout over his chest that exposed the cleavage of his pectorals and only barely concealed his nipples. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Do you really need to dress like this?” Oikawa managed to repeat. “You’re showing a lot of skin.”

Bokuto huffed a little as he pulled on his arm greaves. “Oikawa, you know I don’t like to wear too much clothing. It limits my mobility.”

“The rest of us are completely covered,” Oikawa pointed out, gesturing to his own black-and-teal drivesuit and Daichi’s hanging black-and-orange one. “And we do fine.”

“Bokuto can wear whatever he wants,” Kuroo put in. “He’s our strongest offensive force, you know.”

 _“Thank_ you!” Bokuto beamed at his best friend.

“I do agree with Oikawa, though,” Kuroo went on. “Your boob window is the most impractical thing in the world.”

“Like your half-unzipped catsuit is any better,” Oikawa retorted as he fastened his utility belt around his waist. _Traitor._

Kuroo frowned at him. “My catsuit is _cool_ , okay. It shows off my cleavage. I look _good_ in it.”

“You definitely do!” said Bokuto, and slapped Kuroo’s ass hard to drive the point home. He ignored Kuroo’s startled yelp to add, “But I like feeling the breeze on my skin. Besides, I’m virtually invulnerable in this realm, remember? I could go in naked if I wanted, it makes no difference.”

“Please don’t do that,” Daichi interjected. “Also, we’re almost there. Is everyone suited up?”

“Everyone but you, Sawamura.” Kuroo leaned back against the side of the van, smile curling around his words. “You can come back here and strip down anytime you like.”

Then he stumbled and cursed in surprise as Daichi deliberately swerved to hit a pothole. _“Dammi-”_

“Quiet,” Daichi interrupted him. “I’m driving.”

At the back of the van, Bokuto and Oikawa were fitting in the earpieces that served as their communications links in battle. Kuroo checked that his own was secure, and then unfastened Daichi’s from the charger and leaned forward into the front. He braced himself against the passenger seat so he could press the piece into Daichi’s ear as he drove.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, babe.”

“Can you stop calling me that?”

In response, Kuroo blew in his ear, and snickered at Daichi’s annoyed expression as he involuntarily shivered.

Oikawa raised a hand to his ear to click the device on, and the comm link crackled to life in the other three’s ears. “Testing. Testing. According to all known laws of aviation-”

“ALRIGHT, IT WORKS,” Daichi said. “Are you guys dressed? We’ll be there in less than a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Daichi parked the van in an alley, then changed quickly in the back. When he emerged, clad in his own drivesuit - black, with neon orange lines outlining the seams - the other three were itching to move out. They looked up as one, awaiting Daichi’s orders. The rain had cleared up as they drove, leaving the city cast in watery sunlight. Ahead of them, in the square, the entity was clearly visible - a mass of thick, tough vines, roughly the size of a small house. It had already uprooted two lampposts and a public bench. The vines on the outside were coiling and whipping back and forth in clear annoyance - someone had pissed this thing off.

“Alright, usual plan,” Daichi began. “Bokuto and Oikawa, go ahead. Kuroo and I will hang back unless we’re severely needed. You two-” Daichi nodded at Bokuto and Oikawa- “find some high ground. I’ll give you the word for when to go in, once I’ve done some ground reconnaissance.”

“Will do,” Oikawa agreed. He and Bokuto loped off down the alley, searching for a space wide enough for them to take off. Bokuto and Oikawa almost always went on the offensive in fights; Kuroo wasn’t much use when the heat of battle separated him from the rest, although he did, on occasion, cling to Bokuto in combat like a power-boosting jetpack.

“Alright, we’re ready for launch,” came Oikawa’s voice over the comm link after a moment. “On your word, Daichi.”

“Ready?” Daichi said into his comm link.

“Ready.”

“Ready.”

“Ready!”

For once, the team was all business.

“And - _go.”_

With a _sssck,_ Oikawa shot off a line from his grappling gun and swung off into the air, and Bokuto leapt off the ground to follow. Kuroo and Daichi jogged down the alley in a more earthbound manner, and took a stance a little further away from the mass of vines. Kuroo’s ability only held indirect attacking power, and out of their two offensive members, one was unaffected by it and the other rarely needed its assistance. So in most of their battles, he tended to hang back and offer his help to Daichi, who held the defensive position.

It wasn’t that their leader’s geokinesis was inherently a defensive power, but that his greatest strength lay in building foundations - creating more favorable conditions for the rest of their team. Additionally, between Oikawa on the front lines and Daichi holding a more removed position, there wasn’t much that slipped by their chain of command.

Now, since Bokuto and Oikawa were still in the air and thus out of his reach, Daichi concentrated on the pavement just below the vines - the cracked, broken concrete. His brow furrowed. “Kuroo, a little closer.”

“You only had to ask, babe.” Kuroo shifted over towards him, close enough that their shoulders bumped.

Daichi linked his fingers together and pressed his hands outwards to crack his knuckles. Kuroo took a moment to enjoy the flex of his triceps. “Alright.” He knelt and pressed one palm to the ground - contact wasn’t necessary for his power, but it was helpful.

From his hand, a crack in the concrete slithered out towards the vines like a snake in the water. As it approached, it split off into several cracks, splitting the smooth concrete into tiny, loose chunks. Then, as the first crack hit the vines, Daichi’s lips parted slightly.

“Doing okay down there, Daichi?” Oikawa’s voice crackled over the comm link. “We’re ready to move whenever you say the word.” If Kuroo squinted, he could see the other half of their team perched atop the building opposite - Oikawa a dark shadow next to where Bokuto’s armor was gleaming in the light like a scantily-clad sunbeam.

Daichi grunted. “S’not as easy as it looks - the vines are growing up from underneath, got it half-split already, I”m trying to figure out where the person is underneath all of it-”

“Wait, there’s a person in there?” That was Bokuto.

 _“Obviously,_ Kou-chan.” Kuroo could practically _hear_ Oikawa’s eye-roll. “There has to be something sentient controlling them, otherwise they wouldn’t know when and where to attack.”

“Oh! You’re so smart, Oikawa.”

“I really am.”

“And you’re super cute!”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Bro, stop encouraging him,” Kuroo complained, to no avail. On the opposite rooftop, he could see Bokuto’s form snuggling up to Oikawa - who was, as far as Kuroo could tell, welcoming him with open arms. “Guys, stop cuddling, we’re on a mission. Daichi, how’s it going?”

Daichi shook his head. “I’d be able to pinpoint their location if I could feel the vibrations of their motion, but they’re not moving at all. We might have to go in as is - I’ll stir up the whole area as best as I can. Oikawa, what do you think?”

“I think I can do you one better than that.” And again, Kuroo could _hear_ the lidded-eyed smirk in Oikawa’s voice.

As Kuroo watched their distant figures, Oikawa gently pushed Bokuto out of his lap and strode over to the edge of the roof. He drew something small and silver - a shuriken - from his utility belt, and, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the missile in a spinning arc down towards the very center of the mass, where it buried itself in a particularly thick vine.

The entire thing recoiled, as though it’d been burned. Daichi let out a grunt of victory, and then the vines roiled again as, presumably, the earth erupted up under the feet of the person buried amongst them. “Bokuto, Oikawa-”

“Already there,” said Oikawa, sounding entirely too smug and composed for someone who was plummeting down from the side of a building in midair.

Daichi grinned. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What, it’s not my winning personality?”

“It’s _definitely_ not that.”

Another line shot out of Oikawa’s grappling gun and fixed onto the side of the building across the way, and he went into a swing that would’ve made Peter Parker proud. As he closed in on their enemy, he released the line, sending his body in a graceful arc right into the heart of the mass of plant matter.

Oikawa hit katana-first, and Kuroo let out a low whistle - Oikawa had no superpowers of his own, but his skill as a warrior was mildly terrifying. He caught hold of one thick vine and started slicing, opening up a hole large enough for one of them to enter. Unfortunately, even with Oikawa’s razor-sharp blade, it was tough going. “Could’ve used a _scythe,”_ Oikawa grumbled over the comm link. “My sword is going to be all dull after this.”

“I’m sorry we don’t have any flesh for you to hack at,” Daichi retorted. “Bokuto, get in there - I’m having a hard time keeping hold of their feet for some reason-”

Bokuto slammed down onto the top of the mass, and the whole thing reeled under the force of his punch.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t very easy to punch a plant. Bokuto clawed vines aside, but even with his prodigious strength, he could barely keep them apart long enough to get in. He grunted. _“Can’t_ \- can’t get in, they’re packed too tight-”

“Bokuto, heads up,” came Oikawa’s voice. “I’m throwing in some presents,”

“Huh? Okay-”

_BOOM!_

At the detonation of Oikawa’s explosive, a blazing fireball rose up from within the plant mass itself.

Bits of vine went flying in all directions. When the fire subsided, a deep crater had been opened at the top of the structure. Some of the severed ends were charred - some were still on fire. The remaining vines swiftly curled in tighter, denser, and flatter until the structure was less than half its original size. They did not move.

“Are they down?” Kuroo asked.

“No,” said Daichi at the same time that one hefty vine shot out with furious speed. Bokuto let out a _hurck_ into his comm link as it lashed him across the middle, catching him in the center of his breastplate. The demigod went flying backwards away from the plants, and slammed into the concrete sidewalk, where he lay stunned. Almost instantly afterwards, the vine Oikawa had been holding onto whipped out, flinging him onto the cracked pavement. Oikawa’s sword skittered off across the concrete in a different direction as its owner skidded to a stop. He did not stir.

And then the giant structure of plants started moving - directly towards Kuroo and Daichi.

“Shit,” Daichi cursed under his breath. “They know where we are.”

“Can’t you just hold onto the person?” Kuroo urged him. “So they can’t move their plant mass anywhere?”

Daichi shook his head, his face tight. “I can’t. The person keeps slipping out of my grasp. It’s like trying to hold onto smoke. I’m trying to disrupt their stance as best as I can, but even that’s difficult. I’ll have to hit the vines directly.”

“So-”

“So I’m the only attacking force we have left,” Daichi told him. “Stay close.”

Kuroo didn’t even bother making a wisecrack as he pressed as close to Daichi as he could.

The vine mass scooted closer and closer. Daichi threw up a wall of concrete between them - the mass engulfed it, and when it had passed on, it left nothing but a pile of broken stone.

A second, larger wall of concrete shot up from the ground. This one stalled the creature a little longer. Daichi backed up, tugging on the back of Kuroo’s catsuit to get him to move - and then Kuroo stumbled over something - a stoop.

He looked behind him. They were backed up against the hat store - which occupied the ground level of a twelve-story-high building. There would be no escape from here.

“That’s all the space we have,” Daichi said, voice tight and businesslike.

He knelt, pressing both hands to the ground. Kuroo practically wrapped himself around their leader, attempting to augment his power as much as possible. As he watched, a host of sharp, hefty chunks of rock rose up from the earth.

When the vine creature broke through, it was met with a flurry of missiles. It recoiled at the stinging assault - but its progress was only slowed, not stopped. Kuroo quivered as the hostile plant matter loomed closer, reared over them. He didn’t usually get this close to the action - didn’t usually get this close to _certain death-_

And then Daichi slammed one last rock deep into the center of the vines.

The structure shuddered - quavered - and stopped.

Then, almost immediately, it broke apart. Kuroo watched in shock as the structure of vines fell to the ground in limp coils, faded to stiff brown, and then dissolved into dust scattered across the cracked, broken pavement. The square was left completely empty besides the four of them, frozen in battle against an enemy that wasn’t there.

Bokuto prised himself up from the sidewalk. His comm link crackled as he spoke - it must’ve been damaged in the fall. “What _was_ that? Where did the person _go?”_

“Fuck if I know,” Kuroo answered.

For a minute, all was silence. Bokuto trotted back over to Kuroo and Daichi, and Oikawa limped over at a slower pace. Kuroo scanned the square, searching for any trace of the person who had been controlling the vines. There was nothing but quiet and stillness.

“Well, they’re gone now!” said Bokuto finally. “We won! Can we get victory burgers? I’m hungry.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure that they had quite _won,_ but he and Oikawa shook off their confusion as Daichi fixed Bokuto with a Look. Bokuto shrank a little. “What are you going to do this time, Bokuto?”

Bokuto ducked his head. “I’m. I’m, um.”

“I’m waiting,” Daichi prompted.

“I’m not going to smash my glass on the floor when I get excited about the condiments,” Bokuto mumbled.

Daichi nodded in approval. “Then yes, we can get burgers.”

Bokuto brightened up. “So-”

“But not dressed like that,” Kuroo interjected, coming up behind him and looping his arm through Bokuto’s. “You look like you walked right out out of a renaissance faire.”

Bokuto cocked his head. “A what?”

“Never mind, never mind.” Kuroo waved off the question as he led Bokuto back towards the van.

* * *

The four of them walked into the burger joint clad in their civvies, but their faces were familiar enough around the city that the waitress waved them to one of the corner booths with a “glad to see you boys” and a complimentary basket of French fries, followed by their six burgers (one for Daichi, one for Oikawa, one for Kuroo, and three for Bokuto). While the other three sat down, Daichi headed to the bathroom so he could relay their report to the police department out of the way of curious ears. Bokuto started coloring in the kids’ menu, and on the other side of the table, Oikawa and Kuroo bent their heads together to debrief.

“Alright, let’s start with what we know,” Kuroo began. “The person responsible has incredible power, but-”

“Oh! Are you guys talking strategy?” Bokuto interrupted, dropping the kids’ menu down on the table.

Kuroo paused and glanced across the table at him. “Yes…?”

“Can I help?”

Oikawa and Kuroo exchanged a look, and Kuroo reached out and patted Bokuto’s arm in a vaguely pitying way. Then he turned back to Oikawa. “So, anyway-”

 _“Hey!”_ Bokuto complained. “Why can’t I be part of the strategy talk?”

“Well… See, it’s because you only really think with your stomach,” Oikawa explained. “Which, I really do not understand how you still aren’t one big blob of celluli-”

Bokuto pulled up the hem of his shirt, and Oikawa cut himself off with a strangled squeak. Kuroo steepled his hands and rested his chin on them, watching Oikawa turn roughly the color of the ketchup smeared at the corner of Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto, oblivious, prodded at his washboard. “Do you really think I think with it?”

“UH,” said Oikawa, with characteristic eloquence.

“I mean, like, that’s biologically improbable, but I’m part god, so it’s not impossible?” He furrowed his brow a little. “I feel like it could at least have an influence.”

“UM,” said Oikawa.

With the hand that wasn’t holding his shirt up, Bokuto grabbed an entire fistful of French fries and crammed them into his mouth. Around them, he continued, “And, like-”

“Bokuto, put your shirt down,” Kuroo cut in. As much as he loved watching Oikawa suffer, if Bokuto ever figured out how hot he actually was they would all be doomed. “We’re in public.”

Bokuto dropped the shirt, still looking a little concerned. “If you say so…”

“ANYWAY,” said Oikawa loudly. He coughed a few times and stalled by eating a fry before he continued. “So, um. The mission. This strange person. Any ideas why they just gave up like that?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo answered. “I only saw the plant matter collapse. And it’s suspicious that they disappeared along with the vines-”

“Well, _duh,_ we don’t know,” Bokuto interjected. “None of us could _see_ them, except kind of Daichi.”

“…Okay, that’s true,” Kuroo allowed. “Daichi had the closest thing to eyes on them. He probably knows best what happened to the person.”

Oikawa nodded. “Good thinking, Bokuto.” Bokuto looked enormously self-satisfied. “We’ll ask our handsome leader as soon as he returns.” Oikawa fished for more of Bokuto’s fries, then looked up to Kuroo watching him with a calculating expression. “What?”

“You know,” Kuroo said, “normal second-in-commands don’t call their leaders _handsome.”_

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “Implying something, Kuroo-chan?”

“You have a crush on Daichi, don’t you?”

_“What!”_

Kuroo leaned back in his seat, grinning. “Do you deny it?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes with a huff. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” He leaned across the table to wipe his mouth off on Bokuto’s sleeve before continuing. “So _what_ if I have a crush on Daichi? He _is_ handsome.”

“You got me there,” Kuroo admitted.

“And I like having him around - it means I’m not the shortest person on this team anymore,” Oikawa added. “Besides, don’t you dare tell me _you_ never had a crush on Daichi.”

Kuroo gracefully choked on his milkshake. “Geh - _what - I - I never said-”_

“Your ears are all red,” Oikawa interrupted, “which means yes. Bokuto, did _you_ ever have a crush on Daichi?”

“What?” Bokuto looked up from his burger. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“See!” said Oikawa triumphantly.

“I still do, honestly,” Bokuto continued. “Something about how strong and solid he feels, you know?”

Oikawa nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. He’s the kind of man you could buy good china and rake the lawn with.”

They lapsed into momentary silence, and then Kuroo nervously swiped his tongue over his lips and spoke up. “One time, we were walking home from that really good ramen place, and there was a stray dog that came up to us begging for our leftovers and - get this - _he knelt down and started petting its ears and crooning to it that it was a good dog.”_

“Oh my _god_ ,” moaned Bokuto. _“I want Daichi to croon to me-”_

“Did he give it your food?” Oikawa asked.

Kuroo shook his head. “No, but he bought it dog food from the convenience store and gave it that and some water, and then he brought it to the no-kill shelter.”

Oikawa made a highly offended noise. “That’s just _unfair!”_

“He’s _literally_ Mr. Right!” wailed Bokuto.

“Who is?” said Daichi.

Bokuto startled and banged his knee on the underside of the table. _“Daichi-”_

“You are,” Kuroo answered. “You’re just about perfect.”

Daichi bopped him on the head and dropped down next to Bokuto. “Alright, whatever. We won’t be getting any trouble from the police - they’re a little confused, but ultimately happy with the outcome. What were you guys discussing?”

“Biology,” Oikawa chirped.

“I _definitely_ don’t want to know.”

* * *

“Still nothing?” Kuroo asked, pushing open the door of the communications room. “Jeez, turn some lights on in here for once,” he added, squinting at Oikawa through the gloom.

One side of the room was occupied by a sprawling black console with a complex assortment of buttons, switches, dials, and small screens. The other was taken up mostly by Oikawa’s desk - and the eight separate monitors mounted on the wall above it. On the back wall, a large map of the city was marked with pins and ink, along with an I WANT TO BELIEVE poster. In front of the desk, Oikawa sat hunched in his chair like a vulture, face pale in the glow of the screens.

He didn’t turn around at Kuroo’s words, but he did reply, “I like it better when it’s dark in here. The lights hurt my eyes.”

“That’s ‘cause you never leave.” Kuroo glanced around for seating. Finding none, he crossed the room to Oikawa and hoisted himself up to sit on the desk next to the keyboard.

“Get off my desk,” Oikawa instructed him.

“Nah.” Kuroo leaned back, propping himself up on his hands and blocking Oikawa’s view of the lower-left two monitors. “You haven’t found anything?”

Oikawa gave him a dirty look, but he sat back, resigning himself to Kuroo’s presence. “I have a few hunches. Nothing more concrete than that.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Well.” Oikawa folded his hands in his lap. “Superpowers themselves aren’t uncommon. It’s more their disappearance that concerns me. You saw it yourself - when the vines disappeared, _they_ disappeared.” Daichi had confirmed it when they had asked him at the burger joint - he hadn’t felt the person escaping away in any direction. Their presence had simply dissipated.

“So you think that they might have been something incorporeal?” Kuroo asked. “Like a ghost? A poltergeist, maybe?”

Oikawa nodded. “Something along those lines. Bokuto would’ve recognized any lifeforms from his home realm, so I don’t think they’re a god. But I don’t think they’re human, either, because when I cut the vines, they reacted as if I’d caused them pain. Daichi doesn’t feel it when something breaks the rocks he’s controlling.”

“But plants are _alive,”_ Kuroo pointed out.

Oikawa shook his head. “They are, but they don’t have nervous systems. They don’t experience pain like animals do.”

“I still don’t understand how you know all these things off the top of your head,” Kuroo muttered.

“I googled it.”

“Oh,” said Kuroo. “So they’re part of the entity? Whatever it is?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Oikawa confirmed. “But I also don’t think they’re a ghost, because they were able to control the corporeal for so long. Which leaves the question of what, exactly, the creature is. Right now, my strongest theory is-”

_BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_

“Shit - _alarm!”_ Kuroo leapt off the desk, ready for action. “Tell me more later, okay?”

But Oikawa didn’t move.

“Let’s go,” Kuroo urged him, paused halfway through a step towards the door. “…Oikawa. _Tooru.”_

“…Fine.” Oikawa prised himself out of his chair, shaking life back into his legs. He followed Kuroo out the door towards the elevator. “But we’ll talk more later. It’s been two weeks since that thing showed up. It has to be regrouping, and any day now there could be a second attack.”

* * *

Luckily, this alarm wasn’t it. The team had been called in to handle some routine bank heist by a third-rate villain they’d seen a few times before. But really, any of them but Kuroo could’ve handled it alone. While the police took the thief into custody, Daichi went to give a routine newsbite to a pack of reporters - they always loved his face best on their cameras, clean-cut and wholesome.

The rest of them just slipped off back to the van. When they had changed back into their civvies, Kuroo sprawled out across the back seat, and Oikawa lifted up his legs to slide in underneath them. Bokuto attempted to clamber into the backseat too, but Kuroo neatly fended him off with one leg. “No, you are going in the front. You make it too warm back here.”

Bokuto sulked, but he went around the van and climbed into the passenger seat anyway. Daichi, who had returned just in time to hear Kuroo’s comment, rolled his eyes as he shut the driver’s door behind him and clicked on his seatbelt. “You’re not even touching him, Kuroo.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes right back. "I don’t _have_ to be. Like - Oikawa, back me up here. Bokuto feels warm, right?"

Oikawa's brow furrowed a little. "Well... His body temperature runs hot, yes."

Kuroo shook his head. "No, it's not like that. He makes you feel warmer, even when you're not touching him."

"Maybe you're just really gay for him," Oikawa suggested.

 _“No,"_ Kuroo insisted. "Well, I mean, yes, but there's something else too. It's the same with Daichi - he feels solid, but, like, it's just his _presence._ Like, even if he's not saying or doing anything, you can _feel_ him. You get that, right?"

"I'd like to feel Daichi," Bokuto mused, propping his feet up on the dashboard.

"No, Bokuto," Daichi said.

_“Whatever.”_

The van pulled out onto the road. In the front seat, Bokuto fiddled with the radio, tuning in and out of staticy pop stations and weather reports. Out of the corner of the eye, Kuroo watched Oikawa, still concerned for their second-in-command’s earlier brooding. His attention didn’t go unnoticed - Oikawa caught his gaze and threw him a middle finger. _Don’t pity me._

Typical. Oikawa wouldn’t ask for help if he were bleeding out in a sewer.

“I have to pee,” Bokuto announced.

 _“Now?”_ Bokuto nodded, and Daichi groaned. “Why didn’t you go back at the Tower?”

“I didn’t _have_ to go when we were back at the Tower.”

“Can you hold it?”

“…Nope.”

“Piss out the window,” Kuroo offered.

“We’re _public servants,_ Kuroo,” Daichi retorted. “Just because this _divine being_ up here can’t control his bladder doesn’t change that.”

Daichi pulled over at the next convenience store. Bokuto headed inside, and Daichi leaned back in his seat. For a moment, all was quiet, except the tap of Kuroo’s foot against the side of the van to the beat of the oldies station Bokuto had settled on.

“Oikawa,” Daichi said suddenly from the front seat, sounding a little strange. “The pavement is cracked over there. Take a look.”

“What’s-” Oikawa rolled down his window, staring at the corner of the parking lot. Kuroo sat up too, following his gaze. _“What_ is-”

“Vines,” Kuroo answered him, feeling dread rising in his stomach. In the lot, one questing tendril had broken through the asphalt first, followed quickly by more and stronger vines. As they watched, a chunk of concrete was thrown off entirely, and the plants began to form into a horribly familiar mass.

“Kuroo,” Daichi said, voice low and urgent. “Get Bokuto out here.”

Without another word, he and Oikawa slammed their doors open and charged towards the growing tangle of plant matter. Kuroo practically dove into the back of the van to retrieve Bokuto’s armor and shot into the convenience store. As childish as Bokuto might be sometimes, the team’s offensive power was heavily handicapped without him. He rattled the grimy doorknob of the bathroom in the back corner - locked. The woman behind the counter was wide-eyed and frozen with shock. _“Bokuto!”_

“Yeah? What’s up, bro?”

_“Open the door-”_

“What? Okay-”

Kuroo shoved the pile of armor through the gap and into a surprised Bokuto’s arms. “Get _changed,_ that plant creature is back-”

“Oh, shit,” Bokuto said, which about summed it up. He shut the door again. Inside, muffled noises indicated that Bokuto was stripping down.

Kuroo waited. The seconds ticked on slow and agonizing. Outside, Daichi let out a strangled shout, and Kuroo glanced frantically towards the door, heart hammering in his chest. _“Bro,_ I don’t know how long Daichi and Oikawa can hold out-”

“Agh, it’s _hard,_ okay?” came Bokuto’s voice through the flimsy door. “Cause my breastplate straps get tangled, and my greaves-”

“Just _hurry up!”_

“I’m hurrying, bro!”

Kuroo’s fingers itched to move - fight - do _anything_ \- _but your power is only indirect,_ he reminded himself, _you’d be nothing but a liability out there-_

He threw another look at the door. Through the stickers advertising cigarettes and lottery tickets, he could see Oikawa and Daichi huddled together behind a wall of stone - and then the wall cracked and shattered into pieces as if of its own volition, revealing a lattice of vines that had grown up from the earth below. One lash struck the pair of them across their midsections, sending both bodies flying backwards and out of Kuroo’s frame of vision.

 _“Bro,”_ he said to the closed door, hoping that the note of panic in his voice would speak more than any further words.

In response, the door burst open and Bokuto shot out like an overpowered Labrador retriever in armored lingerie. Kuroo dashed after him as he slammed through the door and towards the mass of plant matter.

 _“U and A!”_ Daichi was bellowing as Kuroo emerged into the sunlight. _“Bokuto, U and A!”_

 _Up and Away._ Right, because Bokuto was the only one who could fly. But he only had two hands - he couldn’t carry _all_ of-

Under Kuroo’s feet, the pavement surged up, and he scrambled for purchase as his chunk of asphalt wrenched itself free from the ground and into the air. Daichi didn’t give him any time to adjust, hurling him towards the open door of the van as Daichi and Oikawa whizzed across the lot on their own small hillock of stone. Kuroo was thrown into the back, and Oikawa scrambled into the passenger seat as Daichi took his place in the driver’s.

“Buckle up,” Daichi growled. Kuroo barely had time to click his seatbelt on before the bottom of his stomach dropped out. The van shot up into the sky, and when Kuroo glanced out his window, the convenience store with its ravaged parking lot had faded to a postage stamp below them.

When they were high above the city, the van slowed to a stop. Daichi opened the passenger door and, very carefully, leaned out over the drop. “Bokuto?”

“Right here!” Bokuto’s voice floated up from below the van. “Where to?”

“Just take us back home.”

“Which way is home?”

“Uh…” Daichi cleared his throat a few times. “Um…”

Bokuto made a confused noise, and Oikawa huffed from the passenger seat. “Sawamura, you can open your eyes.”

“I-”

_“Sawamura.”_

“Look, I’m an earth person, okay, I don’t like taking my feet off the ground at all - _get off me-”_

Oikawa ignored his protests and climbed right into Daichi’s lap, wedging himself between their leader and the steering wheel so he could lean down to talk to Bokuto. “Bokuto, go west til we hit the river, then downstream for like five minutes.”

“Okay!”

The van started moving. Oikawa settled down in Daichi’s lap, reaching down to the lever to shift the seat backwards so he wasn’t stuck quite so tightly up against the steering wheel.

“That’s going to be a pain to move back, you know,” Daichi chided him. “The seat sticks in the tracks.”

“It’s not _my_ fault your legs are too short to reach the pedals normally,” Oikawa tossed back.

Daichi pinched Oikawa’s sides in retaliation, and Oikawa squealed and jolted with surprise. But Daichi also left his arms draped loosely around Oikawa’s waist, letting him snuggle in.

“This wasn’t _really_ necessary, you know” Oikawa told Daichi’s chest. “We could’ve just all hung onto his legs or something.”

“We can’t afford _another_ van.”

A few minutes passed, then Bokuto’s voice came up through the floor again. “Daichi?”

Daichi inhaled, exhaled deeply, and opened the door. “Yes?”

“Can we stop at McDonald’s on the way home?”

“No, Bokuto.” Daichi shut the door again. He tipped back his head against the headrest of the useless driver’s seat, face lined with the exhaustion that had set in as adrenaline wore off. The underside of the van remained sulkily silent.

“We should get him a child leash,” Oikawa suggested in his lap, looking far too gleeful at the prospect.

Daichi sighed again. “Oikawa, we are not putting a demigod on a child leash.”

“Buzzkill.”

The brief exchange was enough, though. Daichi liked the comfort of familiar routines, liked chiding his teammates for their antics, liked feeling a modicum of control over his situation. With only a few words, Oikawa had given him that ground to stand on.

For the millionth time, Kuroo was struck by admiration for the intricacies of their second’s mind.

* * *

Bokuto gently set the battered van down on the pavement of the little lot outside the Tower, and Daichi kicked Oikawa back into the passenger seat so that he could coast into their garage next to Oikawa’s motorcycle and Kuroo’s Vespa. Once the long elevator had taken them back up into the Tower proper, Daichi paused. The others gathered around him in a loose semicircle, waiting for orders.

“We nearly died today,” Daichi began. Oikawa winced slightly at the blunt tone, but it was true and they all knew it. “And if we die, nobody else stands in line to pick up our torch. Civilians will lose their security, their homes, and maybe even their lives. We hold a responsibility towards every human being in this city to stand between them and danger. Failure is not an option.”

Oikawa watched their captain speak, face enigmatic. Bokuto was quiet, leaning against the doorframe.

“I trust this team,” Daichi went on. Kuroo’s chest twisted. “We’ve never faced a villain we couldn’t defeat, even when the odds seemed impossible. I don’t intend on letting this one be the first.” Daichi paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and then added, “Rest now. We’ll hold a council tonight in the War Room. At seven.”

Kuroo nodded, subdued, as they split.

Daichi had probably noticed how quiet Kuroo had been on their unconventional ride home, but Daichi was of that rare and precious breed who knew exactly when to leave someone alone with their thoughts. Bokuto might’ve noticed, as Kuroo leaned heavily on his shoulder in the elevator up, but Bokuto’s reaction to low morale was energetic and ceaseless chatter, so it wouldn’t have made much of a difference if he had.

Oikawa definitely noticed. And Oikawa, irritatingly, was doing something about it.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

Kuroo collapsed onto his bed and tried to pretend Oikawa wasn’t there.

Unfortunately, Oikawa was not about to allow that. He sat down at the foot of Kuroo’s bed, pushing his legs out of the way to make room. “That plant person caught us all by surprise. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I _know_ there’s nothing I could’ve done,” Kuroo retorted. “That’s the _problem.”_

“It’s not like any of us _blame_ you for-”

“For having to sit there like the goddamn peanut gallery when my team’s lives are on the line? Oikawa, it’s not up for _debate,”_ Kuroo bit out. “My power doesn’t serve for offense. I’m useless when it comes to an actual fight, we both knew that.”

His tone betrayed his self-laceration, but Oikawa didn’t point that out. Instead, he just said, “So?”

The recent memory of Daichi’s head tipped back against the headrest made Kuroo’s response snappier than it would’ve been. “So _what?”_

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you _mean?_ Do you think I was holding something _back_ today?”

“Kuroo,” said Oikawa, “do you even know how your power works?”

“Oikawa, I can’t _explain_ it. I talked to Daichi about this once - he’s the same way. You can’t explain how to flex a muscle or how to hear something, you know? You just do it.”

“But you can make your muscles stronger,” Oikawa prompted. “And you can make sounds clearer, can’t you?”

Kuroo sat up and stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I know more about superpowers than the rest of you put together,” Oikawa told him. Kuroo dropped his gaze to the floor - he knew it was true. “And I _know_ there has to be more you can do.”

Kuroo was silent.

“You don’t have a single idea?” Oikawa pressed. “Nothing that’s ever occurred to you about the mechanisms of your power? Nothing you could-”

“…Oikawa,” said Kuroo, still staring at the floor.

“Mmhmm?”

“Go get Daichi.”

* * *

“…and we need someone superpowered for me to practice on,” Kuroo finished.

Daichi looked from Kuroo to Oikawa, Oikawa to Kuroo.

"Alright," he said finally. "I still don't entirely understand, but... I trust you two." Pride flooded Kuroo's chest at the words, and next to him, Oikawa stood a little straighter. "So, I'll help in any way I can."

Oikawa looked pleased. "Alright! Let's get starte-"

"Outside, though," Daichi interrupted. "On the beach. I trust you to figure this out, not to leave the Tower intact while you do it.”

Kuroo waved a flippant hand. “Daichi, we’ve broken _so_ much of this place before-”

"You want to tell that to our sponsors?" Daichi cut him off. “I can put _you_ on the phone with them next time we get a call, you know.”

A small noise of fear burst from Kuroo’s throat at the prospect. Oikawa badly hid his snicker, and Kuroo purposefully jostled him with his shoulder as they headed towards the elevator.

* * *

Oikawa brought an array of things down with them: a big pair of noise-cancelling headphones, some suspicious rope, a sleep mask. Kuroo took the eye mask as they walked down towards the shore, turning it over in his hands a few times. Around them, spiky, burgundy-red flowers bloomed - some pervasive weed that they had never been able to stomp out. “Do you ever even _use_ this?”

“Beauty sleep, Kuroo-chan.”

“Well, you never sleep, so I guess that makes sense.”

_“Hey.”_

They crossed the dunes to the empty beach. Under Oikawa’s direction, Kuroo sat down cross-legged in the sand, but he hesitated when Oikawa handed him the eye mask. “Can’t I just close my eyes?”

Oikawa frowned. “If you think that’ll work. But you have to keep them closed.”

“I can,” Kuroo assured him, privately relieved that he wouldn’t have to relinquish that control.

“Alright.” Oikawa stuck the eye mask in his back pocket and turned to Daichi, who had been watching the proceedings in silence. “Daichi, can you start walking back and forth? Towards and away from Kuroo. At an even pace, please.”

“Sure.” Daichi nodded and obeyed.

“I sure hope you’re right about this,” Kuroo murmured to Oikawa.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Kuroo-chan?”

“True, true.” Kuroo took a deep breath and cleared his mind. “Alright, I’m ready.”

He watched Daichi’s slow approach and departure, then shut his eyes. He listened to Daichi’s footsteps on the firm-packed sand, and then Oikawa fitted the headphones over his ears and all was silent.

But there was still something there, coming closer and moving further in a steady, regular rhythm.

Kuroo cracked one eye open. Oikawa was standing next to him, watching him. “Oikawa, can you start walking too?”

He couldn’t even hear his own voice beyond the vibrations within his head, but Oikawa nodded and started pacing back and forth off to Kuroo’s left. Kuroo closed his eyes, cutting off his senses again.

The presence he now associated with Daichi was still moving back and forth in front of him, but to his left - nothing.

_Bingo._

“Oikawa, you’re good,” he said aloud. He could only presume that Oikawa had obeyed, since his eyes stayed closed. Daichi kept moving in front of him - back, forth, back, forth.

And then - he stopped.

Kuroo opened his eyes and lifted one of the headphones off his ear. “Is something wrong?”

Oikawa’s grin was fiendish. One hand was resting on Daichi’s shoulder, clearly to stop him in place. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Daichi stopped?”

“And how did you know he stopped?” Oikawa asked sweetly.

“I - _oh.”_ That clever little _shit_. Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. “You really are too smart for your own good, you know.”

“Maybe you’re just stupid,” Oikawa suggested, and Kuroo rolled his eyes. “What have you figured out?”

Kuroo took the headphones off fully, letting them fall around his neck. He frowned, trying to verbalize the sensation. “It’s like - like, he’s this glow in my perception. Like, he’s bright, but not in a visual way - warm, but not in a temperature way - ugh, it’s hard to explain.”

“But you don’t feel it for me?” Oikawa pressed.

Kuroo shook his head. “Nope. Radio silence. So I think it’s only powered people.”

Oikawa hummed. “Mmm. Daichi, how do you feel as you get closer to and further from Kuroo?”

“Uh, like I always do around him,” said Daichi. “The closer I am, the more powerful I feel. I could control bigger sections of earth like this, and that control is more precise and comes more naturally.”

Oikawa nodded and turned back to Kuroo. “See if you can increase or decrease that glow on purpose. Daichi, stand close and stay still.”

“Alright.” Now that Kuroo’s eyes were open, he realized he could still feel Daichi’s presence in that strange other sense - bright in a way that he wasn’t processing through his eyes, warm in a way that he wasn’t processing through his skin. But with the rest of his senses active, processing the waves on the shore and the caws of seabirds and the shine of the sun overhead, it was impossible to concentrate on just the one thing. Instead, he slid the headphones up over his ears again and closed his eyes.

There it was again - a nebulous sphere of energy. And now that it was more distinct, it had a color - light brown, the shade of a dusty rock-slide down the side of a mountain, the sandy bank of a stream, a flat-topped boulder just right for a seat for lunch.

Inhale. Exhale. Kuroo’s own breathing in his head was all he could hear, and he leaned on the steady rhythm, using it as a foundation. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. He gathered his strength up into a ball.

Exhale.

He breathed energy into Daichi’s sphere, like air out of a bellows, and felt the glow flare brighter and warmer in response.

One more inhale, and then he flooded the flickering sphere with power again. Inhale. Exhale. Daichi’s presence drew closer - surged hotter and fiercer and brighter - inhale - _ex-_

“That’s enough,” Oikawa’s voice cut into his consciousness, and Kuroo startled - when had he taken the headphones off? He opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight of the beach.

In front of him, Daichi was frozen mid-step towards Kuroo. His breathing was very carefully measured, but his dark eyes were heated. “How do you feel?” he asked, voice the slightest bit rough, and Kuroo couldn’t help but smile shakily at him - forever looking out for his team, even under such clear stress.

“A little strained. You?”

In response, Daichi knelt down and pressed one palm flat against the sand. Kuroo stumbled sideways as a ripple flowed from Daichi’s hand out under his feet - and then, the noise of waves at the waterline shifted as they lapped against stone, and the terrain under Kuroo’s feet was hard rock frozen in hillocks and bumps. Kuroo glanced back down the narrow strip of beach, then inland towards the dunes - all stone, as far as his eyes could see.

“You can’t usually do that,” Oikawa said to Daichi.

Daichi shook his head. “No.” His brow furrowed slightly, and then the beach was sand again. He stood up, wiping the sand off his palms.

“Kuroo, are you still actively doing anything?”

“Uh huh,” said Kuroo. “Like - it’s like I’m pressing him, holding him at the higher state.”

“Daichi, walk away,” Oikawa directed him. “Kuroo, see how long you can hold onto it.”

Kuroo’s usual area of effect was around twenty feet in radius. But this time, he had something tangible to grip onto, and he managed nearly twice that distance in Daichi’s slow, measured steps before the connection fizzled and broke.

Oikawa’s eyes were practically glittering as Daichi came back. “Okay. Kuroo, try again. See if you can decrease it this time.”

Kuroo shut his eyes again, extending his mental grip around Daichi’s sphere of energy.

This time, he tried to push the brightness and warmth _out_ of Daichi’s essence, squashing his energy downwards and inwards. It was more difficult - he didn’t like the sensation of smothering something, or the way Daichi’s solidity seemed to be eroding away.

“Oh,” said Daichi. “I don’t like that.”

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked him, opening one eye.

“Yeah, keep going.”

“If you say so.”

Kuroo suppressed Daichi’s sphere further, until it was nearly gone and he couldn’t pull any more energy out of it. He pulled off the headphones again. “Alright, that’s about as much as I can do.” He swiped a hand over his forehead, feeling his heart thumping in his neck and wrists. “Whew, that’s _intense.”_

“Daichi, how are you doing?” Oikawa asked.

“…I’m okay.” Daichi had only hesitated for a second, but it was enough that both Kuroo and Oikawa caught the stress in his tone. “But I can’t really feel the earth anymore.”

“You can’t exert your power as you normally do?”

Daichi knelt down and pressed a hand to the ground again. The sand trembled under, but that was all. “Nope. It’s strange.”

“But you yourself feel fine?” Oikawa pushed.

Daichi wrinkled his nose. “I feel… Weird. Like I’m missing a limb all of a sudden, but the limb doesn’t _hurt.”_

“Like I thought. It’s not the powered _person_ that Kuroo can control. It’s the power itself.” Oikawa clapped his hands together. “Kuroo, you can let him go. Now, we can try-”

“Oikawa,” Daichi interjected. “That’s enough for today.”

“What?” Oikawa paused and stared at their leader. _“Why?”_

Daichi jerked his head towards Kuroo, who had collapsed backwards onto the sand when he relinquished his hold on Daichi. As Oikawa looked, his eyes started to flutter shut.

Kuroo realized after half a moment that they were both watching him. “Hey, I’m fine,” he protested. He attempted to push himself up, and then interrupted himself with a massive yawn. “I - I want to figure this out-”

“See?” Daichi said to his second.

“…Okay,” said Oikawa. “ We’ll call it a day.”

Kuroo gave up on disguising his sigh of relief. He stayed down for a few minutes more, letting energy flow back into his limbs.

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re a genius?” he asked Oikawa from the ground.

Oikawa snorted. “Don’t ever sell me short like that ever again.”

When Kuroo recovered, Daichi offered him a hand up. “Do you need help getting back to the Tower?” he asked.

Kuroo smirked down at him. “Worried about me? That’s sweet, babe.” But one corner of his mouth quirked up, and he knew Daichi could tell he was fine.

“‘Babe’,” Daichi repeated as they started walking. “I think I would prefer Captain, or sir.”

Kuroo bumped his shoulder. “I really think we’re closer than that, honey.”

“You could say ‘Master’, if that’s what you’re into.”

Kuroo gasped theatrically. “Sawamura, are you _flirting_ with me?”

Daichi stopped walking. Kuroo did too, and turned to face him just as Daichi reached out to poke him in the chest - and something about the glint in his eye made Kuroo feel like a butterfly pinned to a display board, fluttering nervously. “I’ve been flirting with you since the day we met, Kuroo, and don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

As Kuroo attempted to regain control of his mental faculties, Oikawa piped up, “You can call me babe.”

_“I already call you babe!”_

By the time the three of them reached the Tower elevator, Kuroo’s earlier gloom was forgotten. “Okay, but that was _really_ cool,” he told Oikawa, gesturing a little for emphasis. “Like, I never even _thought_ about - I can feel Daichi, even now, did you know that? Like, I can sense him near me-” Oikawa looked incredibly self-satisfied. “Oh, _man,_ I can’t wait to try this out on Bokuto!”

“Okay, but don’t push yourself,” Daichi told him as the elevator ascended. “You’ve already done a lot for the day. And Bokuto’s part god, remember? If you augment his power too much, he might go berserk.”

“I’ll keep a handle on it,” Kuroo assured him, still too excited to pay much attention. The elevator door slid open. “Bokuto!” Kuroo cried. “Where are you?”

“Sup, guys!” Bokuto’s voice floated out from the kitchen, where he was probably eating the entire refrigerator.

“Hey, bro!” Kuroo called ahead as he bounded towards the entryway to the other room. “You’ll never guess what we-”

Now that his newfound awareness was awoken, Bokuto’s aura hit him like a punch to the face. Kuroo choked on his words - and then the linoleum of the kitchen floor was cool under his knees, palms, forehead. A strangled cry echoed in his ears - it took him a beat and a half to realize that the noise was his own.

Strong hands that he recognized as Daichi’s pulled him up. Kuroo squinched his eyes shut tight and pressed his hands over his ears - but he couldn’t keep out the white-hot brightness pressing down on his consciousness. “Ow - ow, ow, _ow-”_

“Whoa, holy shit, what’s going on?” That was Bokuto. “Is he okay?”

“Bokuto, get into the living room,” Kuroo vaguely heard Oikawa say. Bokuto’s steps pattered away. Daichi stood solid underneath Kuroo, propping up his teammate’s body. “Kuroo - Kuroo, talk to me.”

Kuroo opened his eyes - it wasn’t like shutting them had helped anything. He could still feel Bokuto’s blinding warmth, but the distance and the wall helped muffle it. _“…Shit.”_ He laughed, a little shaky. “It’s a lot more intense with a divine being. Give me a moment.”

Oikawa waited an impatient minute, and then asked, “Would you be okay if we called him back in? I think it’d be best for you to keep trying. You have to get back on the horse when you fall off.”

“But only if you’re okay with it,” Daichi added. “Don’t burn yourself out.”

Kuroo thought about it for a moment, and then decided, “Let’s try again. Now that I think about it, it didn’t really _hurt._ It just surprised me.” Kuroo scrunched up his nose. “Like when you’re at summer camp and your best friend thinks it’s funny to take a picture of you in the middle of the night with the flash on their disposable camera right up against your eyes so it shocks you awake and they have a picture of you freaking the hell out in your sleeping bag.”

Oikawa sighed. “Yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“Same,” Daichi agreed dolefully.

“Can I come back?” came Bokuto’s worried voice from the other room. “Is Kuroo okay?”

“Yeah, bro, come on in,” Kuroo called, standing up straight off Daichi’s shoulder.

This time, he was prepared, and Bokuto walked in slowly. Still, Kuroo’s breath hissed out of him as he adjusted. Bokuto’s presence was double, triple, quadruple Daichi’s in heat and intensity. It took several minutes before his sixth sense could adapt to all the _noise._

But once the initial shock wore off, Bokuto’s energy wasn’t painful at all. Kuroo might even call it _pleasant._ It was warm in the way that, now that he thought about it, Bokuto had always been warm - full of energy, and occasionally exhausting, but also comforting and vivid.

At last, he said aloud, “Kay, I’m good.”

Bokuto let out a long sigh. Daichi and Oikawa both slumped in relief. Kuroo opened his eyes and smiled. “Better than good. Bokuto, you feel _nice.”_

“I’m glad you’re okay, bro.” Bokuto reached out to hug Kuroo, then thought better of it and dropped his arms, brow still knotted with concern. “What was up with that, though?”

“You’re really hot,” Kuroo explained to him.

“Thanks!” said Bokuto. “But it doesn’t usually have this effect on you.”

Kuroo grinned. “See, we figured out something _really_ cool, down on the beach just now. Give me a minute to put some sugar in my bloodstream, then I’ll explain everything-”

“No, you will explain later,” Daichi interrupted. “Eat, and then sleep. We all need you in top condition if we’re going on the attack. We’ll meet for the council in the War Room at seven.”

* * *

The War Room wasn’t _really_ a War Room, especially since the team had never actually been in a _war._ The name started with Bokuto and Oikawa, and under pestering, Oikawa had reluctantly admitted that they called it that because of the heavy old oak table that dominated the room, and because of its position at the very top of the Tower, where the sunlight through the windows cast the table and those seated around it into dramatic lighting - as if they were ancient warlords, gathering for council before they led their troops into the glorious chaos of battle.

Kuroo had suggested that maybe the two of them had just played too much Dungeons and Dragons over the years. Bokuto had pointed out that pretty much his entire life in his home realm before he came to Earth had been one big game of Dungeons and Dragons. Oikawa had added that calling it the “Council Room” made it sound like they were selling insurance or something. Kuroo was forced to concede the point, and the War Room it was.

Daichi was five minutes early, and Oikawa arrived right on time. Bokuto skidded in at 7:03, frantically apologizing for his tardiness, and Kuroo sauntered in at 7:05 with a “hey, guys.”

“Late,” Oikawa chided him.

“I brought chips.” Kuroo tossed the bag of Lays down onto the table. Bokuto made a delighted noise and snatched it up.

“I _bought_ those chips,” Daichi pointed out.

“Moot point. Did you guys start yet?”

“We were about to,” Oikawa answered. Kuroo dropped down into his seat next to Bokuto. “I figured something out today. About the person controlling those vines.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “About what we were discussing earlier?”

“Yeah. I got it when we watched them emerge from the ground. They’re not a ghost.” Oikawa’s face twisted in annoyance. “They’re a _kami.”_

“What’s a kami?” asked Bokuto through a mouthful of chips.

“They’re nature spirits,” Kuroo told him. “Spirits of things like rocks, and mountains, and earth. And, in this one’s case, plants?” he added, directing the question at Oikawa.

“Exactly,” Oikawa confirmed. “They can control plant matter, but it’s also _part_ of them, judging by how they feel its pain. Their physical presence was too tangible for a ghost, but they’re capable of becoming incorporeal.”

“That’s probably how they escaped,” Daichi speculated. “Fading into the ground.”

“It’s the obvious solution.” Oikawa sniffed. “Not that I _like_ it.”

Kuroo tilted his head. “You don’t like kami?”

“I _hate_ supernatural things,” Oikawa muttered. Bokuto drooped. “Shit - no, not you, Kou-chan.”

“But you just said…” Bokuto trailed off, plopping his face down onto the wooden table.

“Bokuto, I _love_ you,” Oikawa insisted.

“I love you too,” Bokuto mumbled against the table. “So much.”

“I love you _more-”_

“Okay, we get it,” Kuroo interrupted before they could build up steam. With Bokuto and Oikawa, this sort of thing would go on for hours. “So what now? We need a plan, right?”

Bokuto lifted his head up. All eyes turned to the head of the table.

Daichi sat forward, folding his hands in front of him. “For starters, we have to wait until the kami appears again. We don’t have any way to summon them. I’ll notify the police to alert us instantly if they see the kami pop up again.”

“They’ll do it in an instant,” Kuroo assured him. “The police _love_ you. You’re so steady and reliable.”

“And handsome,” Oikawa added.

“And strong,” Bokuto piped up.

“Uh, thanks,” Daichi said. “Anyway. Once we have that window of opportunity.” His eyes swept around the table. “We couldn’t take the kami down alone. We’re going to have to defeat them with our strengths combined.” Daichi’s gaze settled on Kuroo. “New strengths, in particular.”

“You want me to do my thing on Bokuto,” Kuroo supplied.

It made sense. Bokuto was by far their most powerful offensive player. If Kuroo could ramp up that power, Bokuto might be able to break through to reach their enemy.

Kuroo didn’t look over at his best friend, but next to him, Bokuto was still burning hot and powerful in the periphery of his sixth sense. Kuroo was barely acclimated to his _presence._ He had no idea if he’d be able to _control_ it - and if he’d be able to rein Bokuto in once he did.

“It won’t be easy,” Daichi warned him. “And it could be dangerous for you. Both of you. Do you think you can-”

“We’ll do it,” Kuroo interrupted. “We have no choice.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Don’t sell me short, Sawamura, I’m not putting my single life above the safety of everyone else in this city-”

“My priorities are the same as yours,” Daichi cut him off. “If you die, or if Bokuto goes berserk, we have no hope left.”

 _“We can do it,”_ Kuroo repeated.

“We can,” Bokuto spoke up. He never talked much in the War Room - his strength was in action. But the sound of his voice broke some of the tension thick in the air. “I trust you guys.”

Daichi held Kuroo’s gaze for a moment, searching. Then, apparently satisfied with what he saw there, he looked away at the rest of their team. “Alright. Then that’s stage one of the plan.”

“There’s a stage two?” Kuroo inquired. He shot a questioning gaze at Oikawa, who shook his head in response - he hadn’t known either.

“Yes. Once Bokuto has brought you close enough to the kami, I want you to take their power.” Daichi crossed his arms over his chest. “Strip it away entirely, or suppress it as much as you can. From the outside, Oikawa and I might be able to give you some help, but until that vine barrier is down, it’ll be almost entirely on the two of you.” Daichi paused for a moment, and then added, in a softer tone, “It’ll be dangerous, and there’s no guarantee that we’ll succeed. If any of you want to veto this, speak now.”

“I’m in,” Oikawa said instantly.

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto added.

The three of them turned to Kuroo.

 _“Of course I’m in,”_ he said indignantly. “There’s no way I’d miss a party like that.”

Daichi grinned and slammed his hands down on the table in front of him as he stood up. “Then let’s do this.”

* * *

Every time the siren rang in the next week, Kuroo practically sprinted to the comms room to see what was going on. And _every_ time, it was just something routine - small crime, minor villains popping up again, cleanup of someone else’s destruction.

Kuroo was itching to move, to fight, to test out his newfound strength on a real opponent. But as the days dragged on, the kami didn’t resurface. In the meantime… Kuroo practiced.

He practiced near-constantly, actually. Daichi made a willing partner until he got tired of Kuroo sitting across the room from him and flicking his geokinetic ability on and off at random. When he chased Kuroo away, Kuroo went to find Bokuto.

The first couple of times he attempted to control Bokuto’s power, in the Tower’s battered training gym, it was like trying to swallow a live fish. Even though Kuroo had gotten used to Bokuto’s blinding presence, it was almost impossible to get an actual grasp on it. Oikawa pretended he wasn’t hovering just outside the door during their training sessions, except when Kuroo started groaning with the exertion, upon which he hurried in with two juice boxes and a bag of rice crackers. Kuroo was sprawled out on his back on the training mats, with Bokuto sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Get up and give your body fuel,” Oikawa instructed him, swiftly poking the straw into the juicebox and handing it to him.

“I’m getting stronger,” Kuroo managed, although he was sweating hard and his chest was heaving. He sat up and sucked up the entire juicebox in one slurp, then fumbled the next one out of Oikawa’s hand.

“I was thinking,” Oikawa began.

“I hate it when you do that,” Kuroo muttered.

Oikawa ignored him. “When I was watching you guys earlier.”

“Were you? I hadn’t noticed.”

Oikawa flicked his nose. “Aren’t you too tired to be sarcastic? Shut up. Anyway. Bokuto, you haven’t really been doing anything, right?”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Bokuto mumbled. “I _really_ don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re not, bro.” Kuroo leaned over to nuzzle Bokuto’s shoulder. “I promise.”

“But you also aren’t getting anywhere,” Oikawa prompted them. “Bokuto, do you think you could deliberately make yourself more receptive to Kuroo’s power? Is there any way you could make it easier from your end?”

Bokuto tilted his head. “Like… Opening my mind to him? When I feel him trying to get a grip on my power? Oh, jeez, that’d be weird, but I could give it a try…”

Oikawa nodded. “If it’s a mutual effort, it could be easier. A handshake, as opposed to a grab. At the very least, it’s worth the effort.”

“Sure, I’ll give it a go,” Bokuto agreed. He hopped up and offered his best friend a hand. “Kuroo, you good?”

“Hell yeah I am.” Kuroo accepted the hand and pulled himself up. “Let’s do this, bro.”

Five minutes later, Kuroo and Bokuto were holding each other’s hands and spinning around in a circle. Kuroo was about ready to achieve flight with excitement. Bokuto’s eyes were blazing golden with energy.

“We got it, we got it, _we got it-”_

“You got it,” Oikawa agreed. He looked incredibly smug.

_“We got it, we got it, we got it-”_

“I didn’t mean a _literal_ handshake, you know-”

Kuroo let go of Bokuto’s hands and abruptly turned to their teammate. Oikawa squawked in surprise as Kuroo tackled him with a tight hug, lifting him a few inches off the ground. But he did manage to wrap his arms around Kuroo in return, and rested his chin on the top of Kuroo’s head as Kuroo buried his grin in the crook of Oikawa’s neck.

“You’re great,” he told Oikawa’s collarbone.

“I know, I know,” Oikawa assured him.

Then an enthusiastic Bokuto picked both of them up off the ground, wrapping the pair of his teammates in a group hug for just a moment before he started tottering. “Ah - _shit-”_

They fell into a tangled heap onto the training mats, laughing with the exhilaration of success all the way down.

* * *

On the eighth day after their council in the War Room, the siren rang while Kuroo was making himself a sandwich. He paused on reflex, and then went back to spreading the peanut butter. It wasn’t like it had been the kami any time in the last week.

He was about to stick his knife into the jelly jar when Oikawa’s voice echoed down the hallway. _“Kuroo!”_

“Yeah, what is it?” Kuroo responded, raising his voice a little. “I’m about to eat-”

Oikawa skidded into the doorway of the kitchen, eyes alight with excitement. _“It’s the kami.”_

The knife fell into the half-made sandwich with a goopy _thunk_ as Kuroo bolted towards the elevator. Oikawa followed close on his heels, laughing with delight. Bokuto and Daichi met them at the elevator, and Kuroo could hardly contain his fidgeting as the elevator descended and they piled into the van.

“They’re downtown this time,” Daichi filled the rest of them in, once they’d suited up in the back. “And it looks like they’re ready for a battle. They must’ve figured out by now that we’re protecting this place.”

“Hell _yeah_ we are,” Kuroo spoke up from the back seat. “What’s the terrain look like?”

“City,” Daichi said.

“Helpful.”

“It’s that plaza with the dolphin fountain. Right up ahead.” The silver van was squeezing down an alley - they were almost there. “We want the high ground, so we’re taking the roof of that bank on the south corner. Bokuto, if you’d do the honors?”

“Yeah, I can give us a lift,” Bokuto agreed.

Daichi parked the van and swiftly changed into his drivesuit in the back as the rest of them did last-minute gear checks on the street. Oikawa checked his utility belt’s myriad components for the millionth time. Kuroo made sure his catsuit was unzipped to the perfect plunge. Bokuto absentmindedly picked his armored speedo’s slight wedgie.

When Daichi joined them, Kuroo was staring up at the top of the bank. It wasn’t more than seven stories high, but there was no way he was getting down without divine help. “So, once we get up there, we’re just gonna go for it?”

“One last thing.” Kuroo paused and watched Daichi as he spoke. “You guys said that the more in-sync you are, the easier it is for Kuroo to influence Bokuto?” Daichi asked. Kuroo nodded. “Well, I had an idea.”

Bokuto came up next to Kuroo and looped arms with his friend, listening carefully as Daichi explained.

For a moment, they were quiet. Then Bokuto asked, “Are you saying Kuroo and I have to make out?”

“No, Bokuto,” said Daichi.

“Aw.” Bokuto looked disappointed.

“Later, bro,” Kuroo promised him.

He and Bokuto could die today. There might never be a _later._ On Daichi’s other side, Oikawa was picking his way down the road with a tight, sharp step.

“Last chance to veto,” Daichi added. “Can you do it?”

Kuroo just grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Then he stumbled hard. _“Shit_ \- Sawamura, you _dick!”_

Oikawa started snickering under his breath. Next to him, Bokuto was laughing, too, and Kuroo glowered at them both.

“Sorry,” said Daichi, not sounding sorry in the slightest. He flicked a finger towards Kuroo’s feet, and the chunk of rock sank back down into the ground. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Kuroo grumbled under his breath as they moved into position, but the prank had done its work - Oikawa’s twitchy jitters had smoothed, Kuroo’s head was clearer, and even Bokuto looked more focused.

“Can you do it?” Daichi asked again, and Bokuto nodded. The determination in his face rippled through the air, settled into Kuroo’s chest.

“Then let’s go.”

Bokuto scooped his three teammates into his arms and took a running jump up into the sky.

* * *

“So, this looks pretty gay.”

Kuroo didn’t take his eyes from Bokuto’s, but he did raise his hand to flip Oikawa off.

“Focus,” Daichi ordered, and Kuroo’s hand dropped back down to his side like it was packed full of lead. He took a deep breath in, then exhaled slowly against Bokuto’s lips, honey-brown eyes locked on piercing gold half an inch away.

Bokuto matched Kuroo’s next breath, and by the one after, they had settled into an even rhythm, shoulders rising and falling in sync. Their foreheads were pressed tightly together, noses almost bumping. Bokuto reached up and took a firm grip on Kuroo’s jaw, anchoring him as Kuroo focused in and reached out for the familiar sphere of burning golden energy.

He took hold of it gently, and Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat for a split second before he settled back into their rhythm. Kuroo was already floating, and he let the even cadence of inhale and exhale support his unfocused limbs.

Inhale. He gathered himself.

Exhale. He breathed energy into the golden sphere, let it flicker stronger.

Inhale. Exhale. The sphere flared brighter, hotter. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale - inhale - exhale - inhale - _jesus,_ Bokuto was _crackling,_ fizzing, sparking almost too hot to touch-

“Enough,” Oikawa’s voice cut into the fog, and Kuroo’s eyes flew open - when had he even closed them? He stumbled, this time of his own dizziness, and fell against Oikawa, who caught him on reflex and then remembered whom he was holding and let Kuroo fall.

In front of him, Bokuto was breathing hard and harsh. His golden eyes blazed with scorching heat, and his movements were fast and sharp as he prowled around the confined space of the roof.

“Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s eyes snapped onto Daichi.

“Go.”

Bokuto’s lips curved up into a grin. Kuroo let out a surprised gasp as Bokuto’s arm locked around his waist and the ground dropped out from under his feet, replaced by Bokuto’s broad shoulder under his stomach. He barely had time to fumble a grip on the back of Bokuto’s breastplate before Bokuto burst into a short, hard run for a few steps - and then jumped off the roof.

For a few ghastly seconds, the pair of them plummeted downwards towards the ground, and Kuroo wondered if he would have to remind Bokuto that not everyone was invulnerable - if Bokuto would even comprehend him in this state - and then Bokuto caught them, pulling up into a swoop that sent Kuroo’s heart soaring into his throat as they shot towards the kami.

“Bro?” he ventured, once he had gained some semblance of bearings. “You good?”

“I feel amazing.” Kuroo felt, rather than heard, Bokuto’s answer rumbling in his chest, deeper and stronger than Kuroo was used to. “God, I feel like I could - I could-” A shudder rippled down his body underneath Kuroo.

Kuroo patted his butt. “Don’t strain yourself, bro.”

“I could do anything,” Bokuto said. “Ask me to move the planet, ask me to fly into the stratosphere-”

“Can I ask you to carry me normally?”

“Bro, this _is_ normal!”

The familiar pout colored Bokuto’s voice, and Kuroo relaxed a little.

Bokuto was a _demi_ god, after all. He might be burning up, but he was still half human.

“It’s definitely not normal,” he replied just as they shot into the mass of leaves and vines.

Kuroo hung dearly onto Bokuto and squeezed his eyes shut. The invulnerable one could navigate - on Kuroo’s part, he was occupied by biting back whimpers of pain as the foliage lashed his arms and legs through the catsuit - jeez, maybe Oikawa had been right about the thing being impractical-

And then there was nothing.

Bokuto slowed to a stop, hovering in midair.

Kuroo opened one eye, then another. They were in a small hollow space at the center of the plant growth. Above, light filtered green down through the foliage. Underneath them, the pavement was cracked and split by plant growth.

Kuroo squirmed around in Bokuto’s grip so he could jump down to the ground, landing on his feet. Then, he turned around - and froze.

Bokuto had lighted on the ground next to him and was striding forward towards the - towards-

The kami was humanoid, and if they had been standing up straight, they might’ve been as tall as Kuroo, maybe even taller. Their hair was dark and messy. They wore a simple, rough-cut tunic - bare arms, no shoes. Their hands were rough and gnarled as ancient tree bark.

But the kami might as well have been a ghost. They were hunched over nearly double, and the tunic hung loose over an emaciated body. Kuroo could see their bones through their translucent skin. As the pair of them watched, the kami raised their head.

“Who are you?” Bokuto asked, without a trace of fear.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” said the kami, in a deep, rumbly voice cracked with disuse. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Why were you trying to hurt this city?”

Ushijima blinked. “I was not trying to hurt anybody. I am lost.”

“You hurt _us,”_ Bokuto informed him. “And you broke a bunch of people’s stuff.”

“Oh,” said Ushijima. “I am sorry. I was injured.”

Kuroo looked at Bokuto helplessly. Bokuto glanced back, then returned his stare to the kami.

“You may kill me, if you wish,” they added. “I have been lost for a very long time, and I am tired.”

They lowered their head again, baring the back of their neck. Around them, the structure of vines collapsed like a deflating parachute, shriveling back down into dust.

As the air cleared, two steps of footsteps approached through the haze. “Guys, what’s going on?” Daichi called ahead. He emerged from the cloud of dust, followed closely by Oikawa. “Did you - _what’s going on here?”_

“Their name is Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Bokuto answered, without looking away from Ushijima. “And they’re a lost nature spirit. And I want to help them heal.”

“You haven’t finished them off yet?” Oikawa cried. With a slither of steel, he snatched his katana from its sheath on his back and lunged forward. “I’ll-”

Then he fell gracelessly onto the pavement as a sudden bump rose up out of the pavement in front of him. Oikawa scrambled to his feet, shooting a frantic glare at his leader. _“Daichi, what are you-”_

“Bokuto,” said Daichi, ignoring Oikawa’s protests. “You trust them?”

“Nature spirits aren’t malicious,” Bokuto told him. “Ever.”

Kuroo looked between Bokuto, strong and golden, and the kami, shivering in their decrepit tunic.

 _It wasn’t hostile until they started trying to mess with it,_ Daichi had said, that first day.

“If you don’t finish them off, I will,” Oikawa growled. “That thing nearly _killed_ us-”

“It isn’t right,” Bokuto insisted. “They’re powerful, but they aren’t mean. They’re just lost and scared.” Bokuto grinned, showing all his teeth. “Besides, I’m a _god._ When I say I want to help someone, I mean it.”

Next to Kuroo, Oikawa seethed in silence.

“You trust them?” Daichi asked again.

“Absolutely,” Bokuto answered, without hesitation.

“Okay. I trust you.” Daichi flicked his fingers at the ground, and the asphalt of the road melded itself back together. “Ushijima.”

Ushijima watched the process carefully, then raised their eyes to meet Daichi’s. “Yes?”

“Come with us,” said Daichi. “We can give you shelter.”

“You’re _forgiving them?!”_ Oikawa screeched. “But they-”

He cut himself off as Ushijima reached one hand out in front of them. Kuroo startled back a step. Bokuto, still fearless and golden, didn’t. Four pairs of wary eyes watched Ushijima as their brow furrowed.

Under their hand, the pavement split open. Out poked a slender sapling that grew up and up as they watched, extending unnaturally mature branches out as if questing. The tender bark grew hard and knobbly, the narrow trunk thickened, and glossy green leaves sprung out to flutter around shiny bunches of olives.

A startled laugh burst from Kuroo’s lips. “You know, traditionally it’s a _branch_ , not an entire tree.”

Ushijima blinked, slow and even. “You helped.”

“I did?” said Kuroo at the same time that Oikawa rounded on him with the accusation,

_“You did?”_

“I - _I’m still getting the hang of this, okay!”_

“Focus,” Daichi ordered, and the two of them fell silent as if by superhuman force.

Ushijima looked confused. “I thought that one’s power was with the earth, not sound.”

“What?” said Kuroo. “No, that’s just Daichi.”

Bokuto suddenly burst a few steps forward and wrapped the kami in a bear hug. He lifted them up a bit off the concrete - Kuroo was used to Bokuto lifting people as if they weighed nothing, but in the case of the half-starved kami, it might actually be true. Ushijima looked thoroughly nonplussed. “You can come live with us! I know a lot about being a god, you know. I’m half god. We have to eat a lot. And we can get burgers on the way back," Bokuto told them. Then he looked over his shoulder, and quailed at the look on Daichi's face. "...Please?"

Daichi held his stern glare for a moment longer, then allowed it to split into a grin. "Sure."

Bokuto whooped in victory. In his excitement, he dropped Ushijima and leapt to scoop up Oikawa in his arms. “Then let’s _go!”_

“Okay, okay,” Daichi agreed. “But hey - slow down. We don’t have anything else to do today, you know.”

Kuroo turned to Ushijima and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Ushijima accepted and began walking with them. Their steps were shaky, and they rested a solid amount of their weight on Kuroo’s shoulder. But he could tell that, at this proximity, his power was affecting the kami, revitalizing their life force.

And now that he was closer, Kuroo could tell that Ushijima’s eyes weren’t brown - they were all the colors of a forest in springtime, dappled with browns and greens and yellows and golds.

Then they smiled at Kuroo, sudden and radiant, and spring warmed into midsummer.

Kuroo had a good feeling about them.

“I have a good feeling about them,” he said to Oikawa on his other side, mostly because he knew it would piss him off.

“Fuck you,” Oikawa requested.

Kuroo patted his shoulder with his free arm. “Later.”

* * *

The next day, Kuroo woke up in a garden paradise.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But he’d fallen asleep with Bokuto on the living room floor, and the first thing that met his bleary eyes when he peeled them open was a curl of vines twining around the foot of Daichi’s big overstuffed armchair. Kuroo pushed himself up from the carpet where he’d been cuddled up into Bokuto’s side and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Along the walls and the furniture and the Jolly Roger flag Bokuto had insisted on hanging, slender green vines wound around anything they could cling to, and new leaves burst from the strands at irregular intervals. From where he was sitting, Kuroo could see into the kitchen - pale sunlight filtered through the window and settled into the morning glories on the doorframe, the daisies on the table, the sunflowers poking up around the sink.

Still groggy, he pushed his hair out of his eyes once, twice, again before he sighed and gave up, as usual. He unfolded himself from the floor, leaving Bokuto snoozing happily in a puddle of his own drool, and went into the kitchen. On the table, a curl of steam was rising up from a chipped mug dwarfed by Ushijima’s thick, knotty fingers. The kami was sitting in one of the worn wooden chairs, looking as ancient and immovable as the mountains.

Or something. Kuroo was still too sleepy to wax poetic. Instead, he just padded across the linoleum to the fridge and fumbled around for the carton of orange juice. His Adam’s apple bobbed down one long chug, and then he put the bottle back and pulled the hem of his t-shirt up to wipe his mouth on the fabric. “Morning,” he said to Ushijima, who looked up from their mug at the words. “Wake up early?”

“I don’t sleep,” Ushijima said.

“Sounds about right. You make coffee?” Ushijima nodded, and Kuroo silently clenched his fist in victory. He went over to the machine on the counter, pulled the pot out from under the drip, and tipped it back to pour half of the black sludge inside down his throat. Then he fiddled around in the drawer for a bendy straw and sat down at the table across from Ushijima. For a moment, Kuroo sucking on the straw in the coffeepot was the only break in the companionable silence.

“You’re not too used to other people, huh?” he asked after a little while. It was something in the stiff way Ushijima moved around humans, the schooled cadence of their words.

“Not recently,” Ushijima answered. “I don’t think many others like me survive. There used to be many of us in this area, but it wasn’t a city then. They started disappearing when the humans started putting down concrete.”

Kuroo remembered his primary school’s classes on local history - a large chunk of this city was hundreds of years old. Nervous dread twisted. “How long have they been gone?”

Ushijima took a few minutes to consider. “I don’t know,” they said finally, looking genuinely contrite. “I am very old.”

“It shows,” Kuroo told them, pressing down the knot rising in his chest. “So… They’re all gone now?”

“Yes,” Ushijima answered, low voice mingling with the morning sun. “I was always the strongest. But I remember where each held the seat of their power. One of them was here.”

 _This_ was news. “Like, in this Tower?”

Ushijima looked a little confused. “There was no tower.” Right, shit, of course. “But his flowers are still here.”

And Kuroo’s heart sunk in comprehension - even before Ushijima stretched out one hand, furrowing their brow as they concentrated.

One spiky red flower, tenacious and irrepressible as ever, burgundy-red against Ushijima’s upturned palm.

Kuroo put down the coffeepot on the table. No need for that now - he was wide awake. “So. Those are your _friend’s_ flowers? The ones all around this place?”

Ushijima mulled over this for a moment. “I am not sure _friend_ is the right word for him. He was confusing, and peculiar, and he did not often make sense to me. But I loved him.”

Something about the straightforward admission in Ushijima’s deep, forest-rough voice pricked in the backs of Kuroo’s eyes. “And… He faded? Like the others?”

Ushijima started to nod, then paused. “He is gone now, yes. But… Not quite like the others.” They paused, looking up to meet Kuroo’s gaze with their clear, forest-colored eyes. Kuroo inclined his head for them to continue, wondering how any of them could have ever thought this person malicious. “He and I were the last ones, and we knew he was fading, but he wasn’t gone yet. And then, the next time we were apart, he disappeared, and I could feel that I was alone.”

“So it was all at once? Whereas the others were gradual?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you started that giant plant mass, the first time,” Kuroo murmured. “You were trying to keep yourself safe.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else left,” Ushijima confirmed. “The seat of my power is almost entirely covered in asphalt now. I could feel myself weakening. It’s why I had to flee, when you attacked me.”

“Do you feel okay now?” Kuroo questioned him. “Are you still fading?”

“No,” said Ushijima. “I feel strong here.” They gestured at the plants all around them. “Stronger than I have in many years.”

“Because of me?”

“Partially,” said Ushijima. “But it’s not all you. It’s in the land.”

“Huh,” said Kuroo. Was it because this land was mostly undeveloped? No, that couldn’t be it, there were plenty of parks around the city.

“I think I should stay here for a while,” Ushijima added. “I think it might be the only place I can.”

Kuroo fell silent, twirling around the straw in the coffeepot. Ushijima took a sip from his mug of tea.

Something was niggling at the corners of Kuroo’s brain, impossible to pin down. God, he wished Oikawa were awake.

“Do you want to go down to look at your friend’s flowers?” he asked, to distract himself from his thoughts.

Ushijima nodded. “I’d like that.”

* * *

“It’s strongest here,” Ushijima said quietly. “Down near the earth.”

They were seated in the meadow of wiry seagrass before the dunes, where the red flowers bloomed all around them. The morning sky spread bright blue overhead.

“And you’re sure it’s not just me?” Kuroo asked, just to confirm.

“I’m sure,” Ushijima said. “You might be able to change my power, though. Like you do with the others.”

“Uh, I can try.” Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t ever even gotten to that stage of the plan for the day before. Kuroo’s eyes fluttered half-shut, and then immediately opened again. “Sorry. Nope. No can do.”

Bokuto’s presence was divine, but only half. He burned hot and blinding bright, but his humanity had anchored him when they stared into each other’s eyes on that rooftop and Kuroo kindled his power into a blaze. It was that humanity that meant they were alive and together the next day. And it was easy to forget that Ushijima, the person sitting in the grass and touching a burgundy-red flower with gentle care in their thick, knotty fingers, was by nature inhuman.

But when he reached out with the invisible arms of his power - when he tried to touch Ushijima’s presence like he’d touched Bokuto’s and Daichi’s - it was like trying to stare straight into the sun. He couldn’t touch it, much less mold it. In that aspect, Ushijima was unknowable.

“It’s okay,” Ushijima told him. “I am other.”

“That’s true.” Kuroo didn’t see any use in denying it. “Have you been back to any of the other kamis’ centers?”

“All of them,” Ushijima answered instantly. Kuroo was beginning to get a handle on them - Ushijima’s grief wasn’t in red-rimmed eyes or a choked voice, but in honesty and perseverance. “None of them made me feel like this.”

“So it’s just this one. The one that disappeared all at once.”

“It’s only him,” Ushijima affirmed.

“Do you think it was deliberate?” Kuroo offered, tentative.

Ushijima tilted their head and fixed Kuroo with a discerning gaze. “You have a theory.”

One that he _really_ would’ve liked to discuss with Oikawa before bringing it up to this tough, fragile nature spirit. Kuroo shifted a little. “Um, you’d have to tell me if it’s plausible or not.”

“I will share what I know.”

Well, no time like the present. “If he disappeared all at once…” Kuroo began. “And here, at the seat of his power, you feel stronger and more alive… He might still be inhabiting this area, in some capacity. Could a kami do something like that?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, voice rougher than usual. “Yes, we can do that. But it would destroy any one of us. It’s impossible to pour divinity into the land and yet remain strong enough to hold your own essence together-”

“He left you a home,” Kuroo whispered.

Ushijima bent their head. Kuroo averted his eyes - whether the kami was crying or praying, it was probably best to give them privacy.

After a few minutes, Ushijima sighed and collapsed back down in the grass. Kuroo was just about to open his mouth to offer comfort when, on the other side of the field that was their lawn, a pneumatic _hiss_ indicated that the door of the Tower was opening. Kuroo looked up to see Oikawa stepping out, clad in plaid pajama pants, a Star Wars t-shirt, bare feet, and a sleek, high-tech-looking black headset. Against his left cheek, there was a deep impression of the headset’s mouthpiece - he must’ve fallen asleep at his desk again. Between that and the nights he spent snuggled up under the warm covers of their resident demigod, Kuroo was pretty sure Oikawa didn’t sleep in his own bed at all these days.

Oikawa glanced around, squinting against the morning sun, and caught sight of Kuroo on the other side of the field. “Kuroo?” he called. “What are you doing out here? What are you doing awake before _noon?”_

At his words, Ushijima sat up, revealing their presence amongst the seagrass and dark red flowers. Oikawa’s face twisted with distaste. “Oh. _Ugh.”_

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, raising their voice a little so Oikawa could hear them across the field.

Without a word, Oikawa turned and slammed the door of the Tower behind him.

Kuroo sighed. Oikawa’s behavior wasn’t surprising, but his timing was poor. “Don’t mind him. He’s… Protective.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Ushijima observed.

“He’ll come around,” Kuroo assured them. It was true - Oikawa was too intelligent to trust easily, but if Kuroo had learned anything so far this morning, it was that it was impossible to hold any real anger against the forest-eyed spirit sitting cross-legged in front of him. “And I like you. And Bokuto definitely likes you.”

“Yes,” Ushijima agrees, crinkling their nose a little in confusion at that last one. Which, to be fair, was a pretty common reaction amongst those Bokuto chose to befriend.

“And, of course,” Kuroo continued, “there’s also-”

The door opened again, and both Ushijima and Kuroo looked over this time. In the doorway, Daichi stood solid and clean-cut, handsome as a young god in his worn old jeans and the morning sunlight. Kuroo allowed himself a moment to luxuriate in the sight of Daichi striding across the field towards them. He really was beautiful, this captain of theirs.

“What are you two doing out here so early?” Daichi asked, when he was close enough to speak at a normal tone. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked down at the pair of them, which was just about the most attractive thing Kuroo had seen in his life.

“Enjoying the view,” Kuroo drawled. He leaned back onto his elbows, grinning up at Daichi with a tomcat smirk that poorly hid the genuine smile underneath.

Daichi gave him an unimpressed look and nudged Kuroo’s prostrate body none too gently with his bare foot. But Kuroo caught lazy morning amusement twinkling in Daichi’s eyes and the set of his shoulders, and his grin widened.

He had a good feeling about today.

“We’re digging up some memories,” he told Daichi, answering the original question like Daichi knew he would.

“So…” Daichi looked between the two of them in the seagrass, then down at the red flower in Ushijima’s hand. “Picking flowers.”

Ushijima unfolded themself from the ground and stood up to offer Daichi the flower.

“Oh - thanks.” Daichi took the little red blossom and tucked it behind his left ear. Kuroo didn’t disguise his sigh of delight at the sight, and Daichi rolled his eyes in Kuroo’s general direction. “Are you settling in okay?”

Ushijima nodded. They were several inches taller than Daichi and several thousand years older, but they were also quieter, softer, more hesitant. Daichi studied them, and then stepped forward and pulled them into a sudden firm hug. Ushijima looked startled for a moment, but slowly - rusty as the flowers, like they hadn’t done it in a very long time - their arms came up to wrap around Daichi in return.

“You’ve done well, Ushijima. We’re glad to have you with us.” Daichi thumped their back a few times, then let them go. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make sure Bokuto and Oikawa don’t send our kitchen up in flames.”

He turned and strode back into the Tower. Kuroo watched him go. He made no effort to hide the grin curling across his face, or the linger of his half-lidded eyes on the worn old jeans.

Kuroo had a good feeling about today, and about Ushijima, and about the smile in Daichi’s eyes. He was maybe a little bit in love with all of them, he thought. With Daichi’s straightforward strength and the way Kuroo’s wicked humor bounced off the wall of his deadpan snark. With Bokuto, the godling who burned so bright Kuroo couldn’t do anything but spill over with helpless laughter and helpless adoration. With Oikawa, keen and terrible as a sword, soft and beautiful as a kiss in your pajamas. And maybe, one day soon, with Ushijima’s dappled forest eyes, their blunt kindness, their immortality and humanity and love.

Kuroo remembered the conversation at the diner with Oikawa and Bokuto, and huffed a quiet laugh to himself. If nothing else, at least two of his teammates shared his feelings about Daichi. Kuroo glanced back at Ushijima; as of yet, at least, _they_ didn’t-

Oh.

Ushijima’s cheeks were tinged just the slightest bit red, and their eyes were alive with what looked exactly like a budding _crush._

Kuroo groaned aloud. Ushijima’s gaze flickered over to him with slight concern. “Is something wrong?”

_“Not you too!”_


End file.
